The Elder Scrolls: Tales of Tamriel
by Stripes213
Summary: Across Tamriel, nearly a century after the Dragonborn defeating Alduin in Skyrim, all of Tamriel finds itself in turmoil. Cities are growing, new alliances, old rivals, and treachery. Follow a series with citizens across Tamriel as they struggle for their humanity. A new war is upon the horizon, which side will you see it from?
1. Foreigners

In the foggy forests and soggy wetlands of Skyrim riding on horseback were three men. There leather hide armor covering animal hide garments. All three of them were clearly foreigners. Especially the Redguard who still had a maroon like cloak that went in and out of his strange armor. The other was an Imperial, wearing bits of steel armor but mostly just leather make. Lastly was the Nord who had iron and leather armor that went over his winter clothes.

"Curse this damned fog." The Redguard groaned as he squinted his eyes trying to see through the thick fog.

"Damn Skyrim and it's long winters." The Imperial uttered as he kept his horse behind the two riders in front of him.

"You fools think this is winter, you'd freeze to death before your third winter." The Nord explained. He looked along the path, stone made. With a rock wall formation along the side.

"Ruthgar, where are we going anyway?" The Redguard asked looking backwards to the Nord.

"Riften, if we're looking for a wanted man, it'd be best to stop in the city of crime." Ruthgar explained reaching into his pouch beside his iron war axe to grab a piece of baked chicken breast. Ruthgar was a blonde haired that went down to his shoulders. Some of it was braided to kept it tidy. A thick long grown beard engulfed his mouth making it hard to find his lips. He was a large man. Common for a Nord. His animal fur clothes made it clear he was use to the cold. A scar went along the side of his face. Merely one of the many scars he had. That one was particularly noticeable, making him look terrifyingly threatening.

"Riften, ew. Disgusting. Nothing but liars, cheaters, and thieves." Redguard spoke in a tone of poor horrid.

"Emphasis on thieves, but don't forget that your homeland has plenty of them as well Assar." The Imperial uttered too loudly. Assar looked over his shoulder. Assar skin was dark as wood. He was bald with hair barely growing on his chin with none above his lips. He was short man, but a mean looking fellow.

"Watch your tongue Lionel, your people aren't nothing but rich snobs who cannot protect their own nation let alone others." Assar shouted back to Lionel. Without a moment of hesitation, Lionel the Imperial knocked an arrow into his bow and drawn the string back. Lionel had long black hair that was parted in half that went over each side of his head covering the ears. A scraggly beard came from his chin that was thin to the point his pale skin could be seen through it. He was a thin man, which was hidden under his armor. Mostly.

"Perhaps you forget that I'm behind you and I don't miss."

"Enough! If you two could remember why we're here is to find someone. Someone who will keep our pockets fat for a year." Ruthgar explained throwing his scraps of chicken bone and pieces at Lionel. The three men were all silent, gazing at one another. Weighing the decisions of words.

Lionel loosened the tension of his bow and removed the arrow.

"Ay, very well." Lionel said returning his arrow to his quiver of arrows.

"Someone's ahead." Assar said bluntly.

Ahead in the thick gray fog that made it appears the clouds from the sky were among them. Through the mist was a darker moving object having the outline of a person. It appeared that the person was walking back and forth from something, as though pacing. Lionel thought nothing of it, but was weary. Skyrim was a very treacherous place. He would never trust being here alone. At least Ruthgar was familiar of these lands from being raised. From what he said, the people of Skyrim was truly in great turmoil. Always at the break of war, sometimes with themselves. Truly sad. If there was something he disliked more was the Orcs or Elves. Or worse, Algonians. He hated all those strange creatures that could be claimed as "people."

Assar stopped his horse and turned to Ruthgar. "What shall we do?"

"Take this slow. Keep an eye out. Hand on your weapons ready." Ruthgar said, he drew his axe and balanced it across his horse's saddle, holding it steady while keeping a hand on the reins. Lionel got an arrow ready against his finger that held his bow. Assar kept a hand on his lap, close to his strange curved that Lionel knew as a common blade for Redguards.

They proceeded forward, Lionel wished the horses huffs wouldn't clap so loudly against the stone made path trail they were using. The trio kept moving forward, getting closer to reveal a woman beside a ransacked carriage. The woman must have heard them coming and began pleading for help. As the men drew closer, Lionel could see she was covered in blood and was in better shape than the carriage. The carriage's axle holding the wheels was broken so one wheel was detached and making the cart lean over where two corpses lay, an older woman and man. A cheap sword was near the man, no blood upon it. The man was facedown so all Lionel could see was large puddle of blood. Including an arrow sticking from his back. He had dark black hair that was trimmed well. The woman had a large hole punctured from her back as though someone thrusted a sword through her chest. Her clear blonde hair was so long it was soaked on the tips from the blood. A somewhat quick death. Flies flew around the bodies, landing on their lips and eyes.

Finally, the woman approached Assar.

"By Talos himself, thank all the Divines. My prayers were answered." The woman cried, she had red hair and a beautiful face that Lionel could never deny. She appeared as a Nord. Her green dress revealed her smooth skinned chest while the white under part was short to show some of her legs.

"What happened here?" Assar asked nodding to the two dead bodies.

"We were attacked! Bandits I tell you. By the neigh you must help me!" The woman proclaimed looking between the three men.

"How long ago." Ruthgar said. It was so cold sounding that it didn't even appear to be a question. Almost a command.

"Couldn't have been more than an hourglass I tell you!" She cried grabbing onto the boot of Assar, "please I'll do anything for gold. I need the money. _Anything_."

Ruthgar stepped off his horse which made a thud from all the weight he is. The stones made his boots crunch. He stepped over to the carriage cart. He had his axe in hand and used it to lean into as he squatted down to the bodies. Lionel looked to the woman who was no longer looking like a mere damsel in distress. More of a brothel whore, staring into Assar's eyes, who was smiling surely enjoying the thought of being between her legs. Disgusting.

"Well my dear, surely I could finance yours needs however, it'd be my pleasure to bring you into the nearest town. Perhaps somewhere with some privacy." Assar explained with a smile across his face.

"Oh that'd be much better. Do you have the coin for an inn?" The woman said with a smile.

Lionel couldn't believe this, it was all too much. He should have known, all Nord women appeared nothing more than pretty farm girls who had never met anyone from outside their homes. This was why he hated such a wilderness land and missed the Citadel so much. Most imperials weren't peasants and farmers. We were educated, pushed ourselves into wealth. That was until the Oblivion crisis placed the economy into chaos. It was practically impossible to establish trading routes. Merchants wouldn't return from all the stories of the Daedra attacking cities across the land.

"You said the bandits attacked not too long ago." Ruthgar asked from beside the two corpses. The woman looked surprise for a moment. Glancing between Assar and Ruthgar before answering.

"Why yes! They struck Papa with an arrow before they charged in. I managed to run off before they slaughtered my parents!" The woman began to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. Her sobbing went deep down from inside.

"So, these are your mother and father then?" Ruthgar questioned stepping closer and towering over the woman. She began to shrink down inside.

"Y-yes. They are."

"Strange. They don't have red hair like yours."

The woman's face turned cold and pale. Eyes widened. Ruthgar then struck her in the face hard, sending the frail woman to the ground, shrieking in pain.

"Lying whore." Ruthgar then kicked the woman right in between her legs. She screamed in agony. The forest was filled with her yelp. Lionel finally realized what Ruthgar said was true. The woman's hair was red. The two dead corpses had only black and blonde. Ruthgar then turned, looking into the woods, filled with trees and bushes.

"Come out now before I kill the bitch." He shouted out. Lionel was confused with whom he was talking to. Before he could think much more. Five men appeared from the trees holding steel glistening blades. They were a mean looking bunch; two had swords, one with a hand axe, another carried an Warhammer, and a last one with a bow. Lionel reached behind him and pulled out an arrow in hand.

"No need for anyone to get hurt." Said one of the men. A Nord with long brown hair that went to his shoulder. His clothes were ragged animal hides with scare pieces of leather armor. Most of the them appeared the same way. The one talking, the leader it appeared, had a longsword around his back.

"Should have thought about that before you thought you could have fooled us." Ruthgar said placing both hands on his axe and stepping away from the woman who was crying, possibly a broken pelvis from how hard he kicked her.

"Are you telling us that we made a mistake? Could just hand over the gold and go on your own separate way." The bandit leader said holding out his hand.

"Don't work like that for me runt. Blood for blood." Ruthgar spit on the ground, grinding his teeth.

"Last time I thought, we didn't lay a finger on you." Another bandit from behind the leader spoke. This one an Orc with two teeth outside his mouth reaching over his top lip from the bottom.

"Explain the two couple in the cart then." Ruthgar demanded.

"First catch of the day. Good little trap for fools like you to help a damsel in distress." An Algonian in the back with the sword said.

"That worked well for you obviously, so now, you folks piss off and leave whatever valuables you took from them." Ruthgar explained. Assar finally stepped off his horse, still holding his scimitar. Lionel focused on the group of bandits. Picking out which one he'd go for.

"And why would we do that?" The bandit leader questioned. Realizing how threatening Ruthgar was being.

"Because I am someone not to fuck with. And neither are they. We're here for more important work," Ruthgar turned to Lionel and gave a nod. He wasn't sure what that meant but he knocked his arrow, "but I'm willing to kill a few cunts along the way." Ruthgar finished.

"Then to Oblivion with you!" The bandit leader shouted, reaching behind his back for his longsword. What he wasn't expecting was how fast Ruthgar was. He sprinted to the bandit leader and drew his axe back.

Once Ruthgar stopped, he let the axe go into momentum and plunged into the leader's chest. Lionel could've swore he watched the surprised look in the bandit's chest before he was slain. Without hesitation, Lionel drew his bow string back and sent an arrow into the throat of the bandit bowman. The three-remaining bandits charged in. The Orc went for Assar, swinging his hammer for Assar's face. Assar ducked beneath it and sliced his sword across the Orc's stomach. A bad cut, that was deep into his intestines. The Orc dropped his hammer and tried to hold his stomach but Assar reached behind his neck, bringing his scimitar into his chest. The curved blade stuck out the Orc's back, covered in blood. The bandit Orc grasped his large hand onto Assar's neck, trying to squeeze his breath from escaping. Assar then jammed his blade further into the bandit. The Orc gave off a loud groan, then a dying sigh, falling straight off Assar's sword.

The two remaining bandits had circled Ruthgar and tried to sneak some quick cuts into him. Ruthgar's armor however protected a blow from the Argonian. The other bandit tried to move in for the kill, bringing his sword over his head to bring the kill. But Ruthgar was seemingly ready and turned around to use his armored gauntlet to protect the strike, while bringing his axe full swing around under handed into the bandit's ribs. The bandit must have been skinny because the axe was lodged over halfway into his side.

The Argonian moved in behind Ruthgar to catch him from behind with the axe. Lionel however had managed to have reloaded his bow with another arrow and fired it into the Argonian's leg, right at below the knee. He collapsed to the ground, moaning with pain and hissing. Ruthgar turned around and started approaching the lizard. He turned around trying to run but the arrow had pierced into the something that prevent him from using the joint. So he began to crawl on his one leg.

"Wait, no! I didn't see a thing. I swear!"

Ruthgar kicked the Argonian to the ground and reached over him to grab it's jaw. One pair of fingers on the top, another on the bottom.

"You annoy me! Shut up!" Ruthgar then began to pull the upper jaw as he pushed the bottom jaw down. The Argonian tried to scream and fight back. But Ruthgar's strength was too much for the slimy lizard to fight back. Lionel watched and listened as the Argonian's jaw started to crack and finally snap. Ruthgar released his grip to show the Argonian's bottom jaw dandling off his face, tongue handing out, blood running down his gaping mouth. He tried to say something between his screams, holding his bottom jaw in pain. Ruthgar kicked him to the ground and began hammering the roof of his skull. The armored gloves started to crack his head. Then finally Ruthgar stomped on his head, flattening the Argonian's head, squishing blood from it's ears. Lionel could swear he saw one it's eyes pop out. Ruthgar groaned and stepped away from the body.

"May the Daedra rot your souls for eternity." Ruthgar said stepping over to the other bandit that still had his axe pinned in his body. Assar took a piece of cloth from a bandit and began cleaning his blade.

"How did you know it was a trap?" Assar asked to Ruthgar who had managed to free his axe.

"Because I did the same in Hammerfell, Valenwood, and here in Skyrim. The bodies however were too rotten to of been only an hourglass. And the bitch's hair was red…" Ruthgar stopped mid-sentence to turn to the woman still on the ground, sobbing in pain.

"Could use her as a warning, ensure no more bandits try to find us." Lionel offered the idea as he stepped off his horse and search the bodies for anything valuable. He had already found a pouch of gold coins. Eleven pieces. Ruthgar however didn't listen and proceeded moving to the woman.

"Please mercy! I beg of you! No! I'm sorr-!" Ruthgar then brought his axe crashing down into her chest. Killing her. Assar whistled and grabbed a pair of woolen socks inside one of the bandit's boots.

"Shame, I would have had fun with her." Assar said taking a Orcish dagger from the dead Orc.

"We didn't have to kill her." Lionel said flatly as he grabbed the arrows from the dead bowman's quiver. Nice arrowheads too. Three were elven. One glass make.

"Can't have anyone knowing we committed a crime here. We're foreigners. The less Skyrim knows of us, the better. Besides we don't know who these men are family too. I'd rather not take claim to killing some Thane's son or brother." Ruthgar explained, taking the bear hide cloak of the bandit leader, throwing it around his shoulders.

"They were trying to kill us?" Assar wondered in amazement. "These men were trying to kill us. Why would we be trialed for their deaths."

"Skyrim is of honor. If one of these men are some royal blood, we could be hung or our necks will be placed to the chopping block." Ruthgar explained as he grasped onto his horse's saddle and hopped on. "Let's get moving before someone sees what has taken place."

"Ay, damn Skyrim and it's long winters." Assar said, taking a seat on his horse. Lionel did the same, putting his boot into the horse's foot rest and throwing his leg over. Before long, they were riding again.

"This bounty had best be worth it." Lionel said as he put his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"6,000 gold coins. My my, not much longer now." Assar said with a smile.

"What could a Redguard want with so much gold?" Lionel asked.

"Wine, women, and the finest food for a king. Perhaps I'll buy some property in my homeland, start a business for the King. Trading. Yes, keeping ahead of all. What about you Imperial? I thought all of you were born with silver spoons in your mouth?"

"We are much richer than all of your kind. One of my families could purchase the land of your ancestors with a month's profit!" Lionel shouted.

"Imperials. Always about wealth." Ruthgar mumbled between the two.

"I'm getting the money to get a ship. Offer my services for the Empire. Transport troops, weapons, food, all for the right price of course." Lionel explained. Assar smirked with his yellow grin,

"Ay, ay. A business man. I like that. What of you Ruthgar? Any plans for so much wealth?"

"I'll make my own war party. Fight, fuck, and drink whenever I please so I don't ever deal with fools like you two ever again." Ruthgar said before remaining entirely silent.

"Marsalis Porthal." Lionel said breaking the silence.

"All we have is a name." Assar replied, eating an apple from his horse pouch.

"Either way, he's his head is coming back with us, and we're getting our reward." Ruthgar said. For the remainder of the time to Riften, nothing was spoken.


	2. Prisoners of Fortune

Steel rod bars. Poorly made bedframe with hay. Food at sunrise, and food at sunset. Rats in the gutters. The smell of waste and body odor reeked the walls, hallways, and cells. This was a dungeon. The long hallway ran six cells down, walls made of stone, and barely candlelit light. Only four prisoners were in the twelve cells and a guard at the end of the hallway. The dungeon was underground so no sunlight came through. It was almost complete darkness, each cell that had a prisoner in it had a candle burning. Not much was being said, except the guard, sitting at a chair, drinking ale at the entrance and exit of the hallway whistling.

"Today is the day." Someone said in the second to last cell.

"Shut up Khajit scum." Another voice came from across the hallway but a cell closer to the guard's end.

"Do not worry friend, my words are not meant for you." The Khajit said before finally emerging from the darkness and stepping into the light at the cell bars. He was of gray fur with black stripes across his whole body, his bushy tail was also gray with black stripes. Ring piercing's line his pointy ears. The only form of clothing was a waist rag between his legs and waist.

"Really? Tell me then feline friend, who are you referring to?" The other voice replied.

"Mister Judai the Elf up the hall from you." The Khajit said, referring to the prisoner located the closest to the guard on the right.

"Be quiet thief! No one wishes to hear from a liar, a cheater, and more importantly a thief." The Elf, Judai said revealing his head from the cell barred doorway. The Elf had a tan like skin with red bulking eyes. Judai was very thin, boney even.

"Oh? So, quick to forget to your execution as a rapist is approaching." The Kahjit said with a smirk, whiskers turning upright.

"I said be quiet!" Judai screamed at the fellow prisoner.

"Oy, the lot of you, shut it. Trying to read." The guard yelled down the hall.

"Do not worry Mister Gadion. Just fellow men of misfortune speaking. Weren't we Mistering Judai?" The Khajit said swinging his tail outside the barred door and waving it up the hallway.

"Keep it down, all I ask. You criminal scum are still people. Till the chopping block that is." Gadion the guard said with a chuckle. He was an older man, probably in his late fifties. Still a man of valiance. Hair was growing a raggedy white and drenched in sweat from wearing his watch helmet and armor in such a humid area. The body warmth projected heat around this time. Morning. When executions came to be.

"Tell me Mister Judai, since you're going to die. Tell me from one man to a cat. Why did you do what you did?" The Khajit said again, sounding like a pest and annoying.

"I didn't mean to." Judai said, stepping away from the light, sitting down on his bed and leaning his head against the stone slimy damp wall.

"Oh lies I tell you! You confessed to the moment the Breton was going to slay you down before the watch found you." The prisoner from earlier said. "I know of your story Judai of Valenwood. You raped your villages darling after she rejected you for some Breton who was a traveling merchant! How dare you lie!"

"How dare she reject me! I was the Elder's grandson! She should have felt blessed that I'd offer myself to her!" Judai screamed.

"Yes, yes. Do tell us more Mister Judai. Or should I say, your Royal Judai?" The Khajit said before laughing to his own humor.

"I had nothing to hide. She fell for me after it. She could see I was a man more than some pathetic Breton."

"Which is why they found you here in Cyrodil? Trying to flee the Breton who vowed to find you?" The other prisoner kept saying.

"Who are you to talk Dalutius Octane? Murder of his wife's family after you found her sleeping with another man."

"You're lucky these bars are holding me back elf. Or I'd squeeze your eyes into brain." Dalutius Octane shouted, shaking the bars viciously to his cell. Dalutius Octane also wore the thin ragged garment around his waist. His chest was covered with hair. He had a near bald head that was growing back in a black color.

"My, my. This is quite interesting. Do go on." The Khajit said with excitement.

"Dalutius Octane, the homewrecker. Ironic since his wife was the one who slept with a Nord sailor. How did you do it? Because I hear you didn't harm your wife. Went to her family's home and slaughtered her family. How many four?" Judai insisted sarcastically.

"I swear I'll end you." Dalutius whispered.

"There was her father and mother, a grandmother, and their poor young daughter? How many winters was she? Nine? Sick I say."

"I'll beg to be executed if I get to cut your head off shortly."

"Speak, of the story. Was it a woodchopping axe? I know you tossed much of their bodies into the fire except for the heads. Poor wife had to return home to find her family mutilated." Judai continued.

"You got that bloody right elf! I did it! I killed my whore wife's family. The only reason they got me was because a guard saw me racing into the dock to find the Nord with a bloody axe. I didn't go without a fight however." Dalutius explained with a sigh of relief.

"Treacherous. I tell you Mister Dalutius Octane." The Khajit said with a sound of pleasure.

"What is your tale Khajit? How did you wind up here in this fine establishment?" Dalutius asked to the feline.

"I'd rather remain anonymous I'm afraid." The Khajit said with a smile.

"He's Mujan-Ari, a thief stealing from a market and tried hiding in an empty sewer pipe." Galion the Guard said with a smile, taking a deep three gulps of his ale, before laughing. "He must have forgotten the fact that he couldn't swim because it was the reservoir well. So once a child started pumping the water, the backwash flew from the waste and pushed into the town's moat!" Galion finished and began laughing, grabbing his cup of ale and taking a last gulp.

"Mujan-Ari the Cunning is my name and title. I'd of gotten away with it if it wasn't for the boy." Mujan-Ari said with a bit of frustration.

"Not so cunning it sounds." Dalutius said with a chuckle.

"Should of heard the report that the scribe wrote. They found him screaming and hollering for help saying, 'I'll go to prison, just save me!' My oh my I'd have killed to be there." Galion laughed as he tried to pour himself another cup of ale from a wine jug, spilling some on the guard's table.

"As you'd assume, Khajit such as myself do not fare well with water." Mujan-Ari explained.

"You don't say." Said the final prisoner who had remained quiet until now.

"Ah yes, I forgot we had one last guest among us." Mujan-Ari said with his seductive voice.

"What is your name fellow?" Dalutius asked, turning to the cell beside him.

"Eridon." Said the final prisoner.

"What brings you here with us Mister Eridon?" Mujan-Ari asked to the quiet prisoner.

"Just Eridon, and I'm innocent." Eridon said. Judai in his cell began erupting in laughter.

"Innocent eh? Doesn't seem that way." Judai said between his laughing.

"Haven't heard that before." Eridon explained as he stepped into the light. Eridon was a young man, couldn't have been more than past his seventeenth winter. He had ear covering long shaggy brown hair, some hair on his chin.

"Why you're just a mere lad!" Dalutius shouted out in surprise.

"Not yet a Mister Eridon then?" Mujan-Ari asked to Dalutius who couldn't see him.

"Boy looks like he barely has hair on his balls." Dalutius shouted back.

"Eridon, full of youth, what brings you here?" Mujan-Ari asked with a bit of sincerity.

"I witnessed a murder of a guard, a member of the Dark Brotherhood killed him. I was so shocked and scared that I couldn't move. She just turned to me after she slit his throat and whispered for me to be quiet. She walked right past me and over a castle wall. Just before a guard came around the corner to find me there. No judge, no jury, no trial." Eridon explained.

"They didn't believe you?" Dalutius asked with curiosity.

The boy then began to make a mocking child's adolescent voice. "I swear sir, Dark Brotherhood swept in and slit his throat and left the knife! I'm innocent!" Eridon imitated. All the prisoners had a good laugh.

"What about your parent's, child?" Mujan-Ari asked, no longer sounding sarcastic or joking.

"I'm a homeless orphan. Parents died two years ago. Been living on streets, begging and getting work where I could. Hell this is better than sleeping behind the chapel. They used to let me sleep inside. Till I started to stink." Eridon said humbly.

Dalutius sighed. "Boy, if I could get you outta here I would."

"Ay, as would I. We are criminals. You, you have yet to become a man, a mister." Mujan-Ari said with empathy.

"Very touching, but he was trialed guilty so in four more moon nights he'll be hung in a public execution." Galion the Guard said drinking more of his ale and reading his book.

"I wanted to try to become a knight someplace. Not sure where, maybe become a squire. Work my way up. Always wanted to test a sword's steel in battle."

"Where I come from friend, we believe after death, a new life will begin." Mujan-Ari whispered.

"One could only hope." Eridon said. Suddenly a pair of footsteps sounded to be coming down a staircase, which was the spiraling steps that led to the underground dungeon. The voices were talking, joking, laughing. Happiness sounded weird to the prisoners. Two younger guards emerged. One with a torch held high. The other carried a tray of basic food. A slice of veal charred, half a loaf of bread, a cup of water.

"Warden Galion, they keep you still here in the dungeon?" The older guard.

"Ay, these old knees aren't getting any better, but my hand is still steady with a blade." Galion started laughing with the two guards.

"Drinking on the job?" The younger guard said pointing to the bottle of ale.

"Wait till your my age boy. You'll drink ale, mead, brew, like water." Galion said laughing, looking at the plate of food.

"Only three dishes?" Galion asked with curiosity.

"Final meal. Going to see a head be sliced." The older guard said with a laugh.

"Right, right. Well, go see him." Galion gestured down the hallway. The two guards stepped down the hallway to the very first cell where Judai was sitting on his bed. The flames from the torch blinded him that made him hold his hand to cover his eyes.

"Judai of Valenwood. What would you ask of your final meal?" The older guard asked, it was now seen that the guard asking was a bearded man who had a scar running down his cheek.

"Red wine, roasted chicken and potatoes would be mighty nice." Judai said quietly.

"Very well, be back in an hourglass." The two guards then began stepping away, almost past Galion.

"Wait, wait. You boys know of any brew upstairs?" Galion asked making the two guards stop.

"Think there's some mead in the kitchen, pass out the prisoners' food and we'll wait for you upstairs and show you it. Be sure not to leave the keys on the table though." The younger guard explained.

"Aye, be up there in a moment!" Galion said with a smile, he quickly chugged down the last of his ale from the cup as the two guards left. Galion placed the key ring on a hook attached to his belt that holstered his short sword. He then grabbed the tray of stale food and walked all the way down to Mujan-Ari, nearly stumbling twice.

"Alright, alright. One for the Khajit." Galion tried to slide the plate through the opening slot that Mujan-Ari took with a courteous nod.

"Thank you Mister Galion, you are far too kind." With Mujan-Ari's tail he reached up along Galion's body and patted him on the shoulder before returning it curled up beside him and into the darkness to eat. Galion then stepped over to Dalutius, doing the same.

"Thanks," was all he said.

Galion then came to Eridon and handed him the last plate. "And one for the innocent." Galion said with flatness in his voice. Before anything else could be said, Galion turned and started moving straight up the stone stairs. For a few seconds that was all that could be heard. Just his footsteps pacing up the steps. Then all that could be heard was the three prisoners chewing their food. Munching away at the poor food. The bread was so stale and tangy that you needed to drink it down with water.

 _Clunk!_

"Success." Came Mujan-Ari's voice as he opened his cell door with a smile. All three prisoners came to their doorways to turn and see that the Khajit was out of the cage.

"By the Gods! How did you open it!" Judai shouted. Mujan-Ari rose his tail and waved it around his shoulder to reveal the ring of keys from Galion's belt.

"I was not named Mujan-Ari the Cunning for just my good looks friend." He said with a smile.

"What are you going to do!? We're imprisoned in the middle of a lake!" Eridon said with poor confusion.

"Well, I wasn't planning to do this alone." Mujan-Ari explained as he walked over to Dalutius' cell and unlocked the door, freeing him.

"You're letting us go? Why?" Dalutius asked with surprise as he stepped out of his cell.

"We're all criminals here, except young Master Eridon." Mujan-Ari said as he stepped over and unlocked the boy's cell door as well.

"Thank you." The boy said looking up at the tall cat.

"Of course, my friend."

"Hello! I believe you're forgetting someone here!" Judai shouted as he shook his cell door hard.

"If you free him, I'm killing him." Dalutius said bluntly, facing the elf.

"For Daedra's sake let me free!"

Just then, the prisoners started hearing footsteps approaching down the stairs. Only one, stumbling. "That must be Mister Galion." Mujan-Ari whispered, he then turned to Dalutius. "How would you feel about killing Mister Galion, Mister Dalutius?"

"What am I? Your henchmen?" Dalutius asked with frustration.

"I am a thief, not a fighter. Unless you expect young Master Eridon to subdue Mister Galion, I'd suggest you think fast." Mujan-Ari elaborating. The footsteps could now be heard getting closer. As well as whistling.

"Quick, back in your cells, keep them unlocked. Mister Mujan-Ari, get Galion to come down to your cell. Then Dalutius can attack him from behind!" Eridon explained. Mujan-Ari smiled.

"Clever boy, quickly now!" Mujan-Ari whispered, running back into their cells, shutting the doors, but keeping them unlocked. Finally, the footsteps came around the corner with Galion the guard holding four bottles of mead.

"How's the food boys?" Galion laughed taking a drink from one of his bottles.

"Actually Mister Galion, I wanted to ask you if you could look at this bread. I believe there's mold upon it." Mujan-Ari said solidly.

"Are you really questioning the quality of food as a prisoner Mujan?" Galion asked placing his hands on his hips.

"Would only take a second, I would not like to eat something bad and make a mess of the cell for you to have to clean it up Mister Galion." Mujan-Ari explained.

Eridon kept his head turned up the dim lighted room to see Galion turned to Mujan-Ari who had squeezed his head out the doorway bars to show the corner of his face. Eridon's heart was pounding. He could feel sweat gathering across his forehead, his hands were shaking. He tried his best to look casual. But he wasn't doing too well. The thought knowing that Dalutius was going to kill Galion that it was scary. Eridon looked to him at his left, his face was pressed to the bars, hands gripping the cage door. Eridon couldn't take his eyes off the scary glare that Dalutius was making. It looked as though Dalutius was out of his mind, an animal. He was becoming primal. Galion then started walking down the hall, his thick steel boots clanking on the deck. Eridon counted in his head the number of steps he was taking, hearing them get closer. One after another.

Step.  
Step.

Step.

Before Eridon knew it, he saw Galion appear, walking down the hallway. Galion smelled of nothing but alcohol, it reeked off him like waste from cow. He turned to look at Eridon. His heart was pounding. Galion stopped.

"What's wrong with you boy? You're sweating like a pig." Galion said straight forward before continuing. "Look like you've seen a ghost boy."

"Just scared of Mister Judai." Eridon said quickly off the top of his head.

"S'hould be, don't worry. He'd be dead at high noon." Galion attempted to say while stuttering his words. Galion turned and began walking to Mujan-Ari's cell. "Alright you cat freak bastard, let's see this mold." Galion said. Behind him, the cell door to Dalutius started to creak open until a loud screech of rusty hinges squeaked. Galion turned around to find Dalutius charged into him.

"What the-!" Galion shouted before being tackled into a wall. The candle that was above it was winded out, leaving the corner of the room dark. The two men were struggling so hard and fast that the air was drafted left to right, causing the candle flames wave. Eridon was having a hard time to see the fight, he could only see moments of it. The two were heaving and puffing air. A groan would erupt with a sound of a punch. Eridon then heard a sword being drawn. Dalutius was heard giving a loud groan while heaving.

"In the name of the law, stop!" Galion yelled from the darkness. But from the barely lit hallway and noises, the two were very much far from stopping. Eridon could see as a moment of candle shined on the two, Dalutius was behind Galion with an arm held out and locked by Dalutius. The arm that Dalutius had pinned and locked was Galion's sword arm, short sword in hand. Eridon watched as Dalutius snapped Galion's arm in half, breaking the elbow. The last thing Eridon got to see before the candle waved the light away was Galion drop his sword.

The two began struggling again. Both huffing and puffing.

"Wait, no stop!" Galion screamed outloud. It was sudden but Eridon could hear pure fear in his voice. 'Stop, please! I beg-!" The sound of gargling started and a hissing. Eridon tried to see but he could see anything. Only when the candlelit fixed, he found Dalutius with Galion's short sword covered in blood in hand. Behind Dalutius was Galion on the ground, but Eridon couldn't see what had happened with him in the way. Eridon pushed open his cell door as Mujan-Ari did the same.

"Mister Galion, no more." Mujan-Ari said tumbling his fingers through his whiskers.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now can we release me from this damn cell?" Judai shouted, begging. Mujan-Ari stepped over the corpse of the once drunk Galion. Mujan-Ari tumbled through the ring of keys and emerged a separate key that slide into the lock, tumbling the gears open. Releasing the Elf, who stepped out of the cell into the candlelit.

"We should get going before someone comes down here." Dalutius explained as he took the boots from Galion's corpse and sliding his toes into the soles.

"We should hurry on then." Eridon explained softly. Trying to keep his eyes off the dead body. But he couldn't help it. He looked down to see Galion's eyes wide open with a gash across his throat. Blood drenched the dry sand that lay on the floor. Dalutius removed Galion's chest rig of armor, and took off the shirt. The body was limp and simple looked like a stiff board. The tall man handed Eridon the shirt, still covered in blood. But at least it would keep him a little warm. Dalutius took the armor and put it over his shoulders. Dalutius took a dagger and handed it to Mujan-Ari.

"Might need it." Dalutius said.

"Mujan-Ari needs no blade. My wits are my weapon."

"Suit yourself," Dalutius said handing Eridon the dagger.

"Why not give me it?" Judai said irritated.

"Because I don't like you."

Without any more word to be said, the four prisoners raced past the guard's table and up the spiral staircase. Eridon tried to keep his breath low. The fearing tension of running into someone kept rising in his chest the more they went up until finally then came to the top which was a guard's quarters. A large pot was burning over a fire, fresh stew from the smell of it. Eridon couldn't help but lick his lips. He savored to take a taste. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good meal. Four guards' beds were lying around in the corner, neatly made.

The walls were made of the same rock down below in the dungeon. The place was truly meant to keep those underground in, and those outside out. Eridon then found a window above one guard's bed, revealing sunrise. It was the first time he saw light in, how long? A week? Month? It'd been so long he couldn't keep track of the days. The window was a simple box shape. No bars or glass. From the war stories, he always heard, it was meant for archers to fire arrows within the walls.

The skinned fur of a black bare was lying on the floor, mouth gapping wide as though it were going to try to catch a fish at a river pass. On a table in the corner was a board game made of carved wood half-finished to be played. There were two barrels in the other corner. Lastly was a desk that had ink, a quill, and four gold coins. Apart from that, nothing was else in the room except for the lanterns around the room on hooks.

Mujan-Ari held up a finger to tell the group to wait. He then quietly tip-toe ran across the room to an open doorway where two guards were talking. Mujan-Ari moved so quietly that Eridon couldn't hear him, and he was right there watching him. The Khajit then slowly took the door handle and gently closed it quietly without alerting any guards. The remaining prisoners then stepped into the room from the staircase.

"Now what's your plan for getting out of here?" Judai said irritated.

"Thought we might be able to sneak our way out, but too many guards. Can't get past them unless we fight. Which'll bring more guards. More guards no good." Mujan-Ari explained looking around the room.

"I can't kill sober armored young guards while naked either." Dalutius said in a whispered.

"I'm aware friend, need not to worry." Mujan-Ari said as he raced over to the table of coins and drew all of them, tucking them into his waist cloth.

"Disgusting, don't tell me you plan to use those." Judai whispered holding his nose.

"Mujan-Ari has no pockets. Do Mister Judai? How does Judai expect to get away broke?" Mujan-Ari said patting his undergarment with a smile.

"If we don't escape they'll be useless." Eridon said flatly.

"Boy's got a point." Dalutius said considering the barrels to find them empty.

"Mujan-Ari is thinking."

"Thought you were supposed to be Mujan-Ari the 'Cunning'." Judai whispered as he stood in the corner, arms crossed. Clearly scared. Eridon felt the same way.

"Mujan-Ari is cunning. Just needs to think." Mujan-Ari said looking under the beds for something of use.

The prisoners searched everywhere amongst the room, but could not find anything. They were so quiet that when the door knob started to turn, they all heard it. The door opened to reveal a guard, completely stunned.

"Hey! How did you all get out!" The guard yelled. Dalutius immediately drove his shoulder into the door, crushing the guard's arm between the door and the doorway. He let loose a wild scream, the prisoners could hear other guards shouting and approaching. Dalutius took the short sword and swung it into the guard's bare arm. The steel cut deep into the bone halfway through. The guard on the other side screamed even louder than before. With another swing of the sword, the guard's arm was lying on the floor, and the door closed. Dalutius pushed his back against the door to prevent anyone from opening.

"Get something to block the door!" Dalutius shouted out. Mujan-Ari and Judai immediately turned to one of the beds and grabbed it. The two carried it and jammed it against the door as Dalutius stepped out of the way for a second. Eridon rolled a barrel over and shoved it behind the bed to try to prevent it from sliding out.

"Great! We're trapped!" Judai shouted in a panic.

"I'd say turn ourselves in, but then we'd be at the end of an axe like the elf rapist." Dalutius said flatly.

"We need to do something!" Eridon shouted out, looking among the three other prisoners.

"Mujan-Ari is still thinking. Keep your hearts at ease friends, we still have time." Mujan-Ari said circling his crooked whisker with a finger.

"You fool! You got us all killed!" Judai screamed out at the Khajit.

"Correction Mister Judai was meant to die today anyways." Mujan-Ari said with a smile and chuckled softly. Eridon kept looking around the room while the men argued. He could hear the guards had found something and had begun ramming it into the door. Eridon turned to look out the window. Wishing he could at least have fresh air again. To see freedom again. Wait. Wait a moment.

Eridon then ran over to the window and poked his head over the ledge to look down to see that they were only five men's height up from the ground. Then at the edge of the island was a small little rowboat with two oars on hinges with some rope wrapped around a pole in the ground.

"Hey! I think I got a way out!" Eridon shouted. Immediately the three men quit arguing and joined Eridon at the window.

"Smart boy," Mujan-Ari uttered, rubbing his furry paw on Eridon's head.

"Can't jump it though! We'll surely break something." Judai explained in great fear.

"If only we had some rope." Dalutius said with regret. Eridon then looked around to see the bedsheets of the guard's beds.

"The sheets! We could make a long rope if we tie them all together!" Eridon said grabbing two bedsheets and began tying a knot.

"Do you really think cloth will hold us?" Judai said.

"Mujan-Ari would rather die trying than to a sword." Mujan-Ari said grabbing a bedsheet and tying a knot onto the opposite end of Eridon's. Judai then reached down and started making another with the final bedsheet. Dalutius kept the sword in hand and watched the door. Eridon franticly made a double knot with the two bedsheets. Without any time passed, all four bedsheets were tied together. Mujan-Ari then began tying it to the bedframe closest to the window, throwing the length of the makeshift rope out the window. There was a short bit of distance between the rope and the ground.

"That'll do. Quickly, young Master Eridon should go first being the lightest." Mujan-Ari explained.

"Well quick, let's get the boy going!" Judai shouted. Mujan-Ari lifted Eridon up over the window ledge. Eridon gripped the rope and waited a moment to see if the knots would hold. They would.

"Worry not friend. Don't look down. Just go." Mujan-Ari said with a smile and wink. Eridon swallowed down his pride and began going hand under hand down. As he went down, he kept looking up at where Mujan-Ari was. Still in the window, smiling at the boy. Eventually after what felt like forever, Eridon was above the ground and let go. Falling on his bottom hard, but alive. Eridon gave a thumb up to Mujan-Ari. Next coming down was Judai who was much quicker coming down. Probably because he feared being killed. Without almost seconds, he was at the bottom with Eridon. In the room was finally Mujan-Ari and Dalutius.

"Go, Mujan-Ari has a plan to keep them busy." The Khajit said to Dalutius. Mujan-Ari grabbed the bear hide off the ground and held it above the fire till it started to catch ablaze. Once the flames were going to touch his paws, Mujan-Ari threw it onto the barricaded bed and door. Quickly the wood began to catch fire, and guards could smell the smoke. Dalutius then turned to the window and began climbing down the rope with Mujan-Ari right behind him. The two began going down quickly, reaching the bottom in time to see smoke fuming out the window.

"To the boat." Mujan-Ari said with seriousness. The four prisoners then began sprinting to the boat. Judai arrived first, jumping into the boat and grabbing an oar. Eridon followed behind, with Mujan-Ari and Dalutius behind them. Dalutius used his blade and sliced the rope from the pole as he passed it. Mujan-Ari quickly leapt into the boat, leaving Dalutius to push the boat.

"Leaving me to push it!?" Dalutius yelled at Mujan-Ari.

"Mujan-Ari cannot swim." Mujan-Ari said sarcasm. Dalutius groaned and then started pushing the boat till he was waist deep. At that point, Mujan-Ari and Eridon helped pull him into the boat. Mujan-Ari and Dalutius took to the oars, paddling the water hard. They worked in sync. Suddenly an arrow landed right in between Eridon's feet. He looked to the lodged arrow in the ground, and back to the stone dungeon prison to see four guards, shouting at them, one with a bow knocking another arrow.

"Paddle faster! They're firing at us!" Judai shouted in fear.

"Calm yourself friend. We will be out of range in a few moments." Mujan-Ari was correct. The next arrow that flew landed a boat length from where the four prisoners were at. Another arrow followed, only to be so far away to not be threatening. Before Eridon knew it, the guards were beginning to be out of sight.

"We… we did it!" Eridon yelled with glee. Arms high in the air.

"Mujan-Ari told all we'd escape." Mujan-Ari said with a smile as he continued to row the boat. Judai got to his knees and began praying.

"Sweet lords. I thank thee for sparing my life." Judai cried with joy.

"I don't see why you're thanking your gods." Dalutius said bluntly.

"Why? I'm alive! We escaped!"

"Did you forget?" Dalutius asked leaning forward to look deep into the Elf's eyes. "Your execution is today at sunrise."

Eridon watched in almost a second Dalutius pierce the end of the short sword into Judai's chest. The tip punctured his chest, Judai was in completely shock and took a deep gasp. Dalutius grabbed Judai's shoulder and pulled him into the blade as he shoved the sword in deeper. The steel stuck out Judai's skinny back covered in blood. Judai's mouth started to gather blood and rain down the corners of his lips. He gasped for air as Dalutius tugged the sword free, causing Judai to go limp. The man then grabbed the elf by the arm and pulled his upper body over the edge of the boat. Then grabbed his feet and threw him into the ocean. Eridon couldn't believe it, Judai was still breathing. He landed in the water, unable to move, he sunk under, gone.

"Told you if you freed him I'd kill him." Dalutius said, dropping the sword and grabbing the oar to start rowing again.

"Mujan-Ari cares little. If you spare him." Mujan-Ari said calmly.

"You're the smart one, I imagine you'd know a better way out of his sort of situation than I ever would." Dalutius said, turning to Eridon who sat at the stern of the boat, scared. "I don't have any plans to kill you kid. Without you, we'd be killed by those guards. Let's keep it as a truce. Once we get back on our feet. We consider going separate ways, deal?" Dalutius offered.

"Truce, friends." Mujan-Ari said with a smile.

"Truce…" Eridon said, looking at the water where a cloud red blood started to dispense into the murky blue water around it, leaving no trace of the three remaining escaped prisoners.


	3. Jarl Rodrick Masurhall the Third

"Your Highness, we should discuss our plans for this year's festival." The squire said to Jarl Rodrick Masurhall the Third. The two men were walking down the private halls of his study. The tall walls reached to the next story level. The glass was a fine elegant make from only a few years ago. The sun was burning through, leaving the window panels of wood to be shadowed crosses on the floor. The decorations and furniture were all a deep blue with white outline. Designed for the city of Masurhall, a city South of Winterhold built in the once clear lands

Masurhall was built after the Fall of Alduin. Two other cities were built in Skyrim since the end of Alduin. There was Masurhall, Ithaca, and Eldridge. Of the three, Masurhall was the prominent new city of Skyrim, offering far more opportunity than many others.

After the Dragonborn slayed Alduin, the economy exploded in Skyrim. From the guidance of the Dragonborn, he successfully brought Skyrim into unity. The Nords and foreigners developed an understanding. For once in many years, militaries of different cities began to unite. Once the Dragonborn passed, it left Skyrim to decide it's own path. Eventually, a royal family during the Stormcloak and Empire war came forth and sought to construct a city to become just a sanctuary. The Masurhalls. Masurhall had tiers and districts.

The city was built in a series of circles inside one another. The walls shorter from the outside on in. The outer end of the city was the lower-class, were trading posts and inns so travelers could stop by before leaving for another city. Another circle of walls with a gate that kept the peasant parts from the living district. Here, people had homes and businesses for citizens whom lived there to use.

The businesses were horse stables, blacksmiths, jewelry makers, a chapel, city gardens, and market place. Most citizens were soldiers in the war and the builders who helped build the city. The stables offered fresh horses that were raised and bred for all sorts of work, farm aid, work horse, riding, and war. The jewelry makers began making the most elegant of gems in Skyrim once the city was complete with construction. A chapel was made under the Worship of Talos, but also offered services for other religions to any. The chapel was large, pillars stretched across the roof and floor in an arch that could only be explained as splendid. The market place was vast, food, drinks, goods, tools, decorations. Everything could be found, gold was pouring into the city's finance once the market's trading routes established. Whiterun was bringing produce, fresh water from Markarth, various alcohol's of Riften. The city garden's gave way to bring wheat, potatoes, as well as animals to be cooked and ate.

The last ring in the center was the wealth-class, which was of the royals that made the construction of Masurhall possible. The Masurhall family were those who went across all of Skyrim, begging for anything sort of aid to be given. Everyone was asked for help. Masurhall family members asked the fearsome Orc camps nearby. Though many times they were threatened, eventually some of the Orcs realized that the Masurhall weren't interested in enslaving the Orcs but giving them a new potential home. Those who did come to help construct Masurhall were shunned for giving up their old ways and beliefs to live like the life of man. When word of a truce came between the Nordic family Masurhall and Orc clans, Khajit traders started to turn their focus to the new city.

But the Masurhall always still needed help. Whether it be supplies to build the city such as lumber, rock, metal, and stone. Or for workers who would be offered homes once the city was made. The Masurhalls also asked for soldiers willing to protect all the people who would construct the city. Most were veterans from wars that had none nothing more than battle. Many were homeless after the Stormcloak civil war. Soldiers had lost their families and homes to it. Once they had a chance for a new beginning, they took it.

After a few years of progress, word of the great city being built offering promise to Skyrim reached the ears of many. More volunteers came. Even foreigners who'd never heard of Skyrim came. Architects that designed great places such as Whiterun, Windhelm, Solitude and even Markath. Soon Imperials of Cyrodil came, inspiring the design of the mountain castle city after their capital. The wealthy-class level was made for those who had been there since the beginning. Those families would then become Thanes, owners of estates in Masurhall. Now the city's hype and begun to plateau, reaching its height. At the very height of the city was Koftgar Hall. Koftgar, the man who had started it all from the Masurhall family, became the very first Jarl. He would not last long, his age was already elderly once the city began being constructed. His brother beneath him declined the offer of being Jarl, he'd leave and go missing into the history books. He had a few sons and daughters, starting their own names. The last son of Koftgar was Rodrick Masurhall the First, who would then begin the Rodrick Masurhall bloodline. Rodrick the First wouldn't last long. Only two short decades he would begin ruling Masurhall. Rodrick's son, the Second would then come to the throne.

Rodrick the Second would take care of Masurhall well, keeping what his father had in mind for Masurhall. It was kept the same, a massive stadium was also built for events such as jousting, sparing, and entertainment acts like a circus. People from all over now came to Masurhall to watch shows, it brought business as well. The last "Warrior Games" brought people from all over Tamriel to Masurhall. People had camped outside of the walls to just watch the games. Rodrick the Second, however, brought everyone who wanted to witness it inside the walls. Only problem though, it allowed anyone to come in, even those who wanted to do wrong. The criminals were all sorts, the main problem was the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood.

Jewelry was stolen across the city since most people were watching the games. The worst case was a pair of thieves had gotten into Koftgar Hall and stolen the family's priceless heirloom which was a construction hammer made of gold, symbolizing all the work that paid off for Masurhall. As for the Dark Brotherhood, they had made three deaths across town. A man was found in a horse's stable under a stack of hay, throat slit, with a Dark Brotherhood blood hand print on his face. Another man was found stabbed repeatedly in an alley way, left to rot for two days till someone noticed the smell. Then the last was an assassination attempt on Rodrick the Second himself. During one of the events, Rodrick the Second sat watching the games in public in the exquisite bleachers. A very well skilled archer had fired an arrow from a watchtower across the stadium to land on the Jarl.

The arrow had landed in his shoulder, not killing him, but injuring him greatly. Rodrick would survive the arrow, but he started to grow deathly ill. It was later discovered that the arrow was tipped in poison. Ensuring his fate. Fortunately, Jarl Rodrick the Second's wife was bearing a child. Another generation for the throne. The child would be born to be Rodrick the Third, the current Jarl. Having spent years of his youth as a Jarl, Rodrick the Third never got to be a child. He was being educated how to read and write. He was paraded around the streets by high horses with grown men protecting him. He had never even got to meet his father, he had no idea what shoes he had to fill.

Rodrick the Third was now late into his twenties, he had learned how to rule, and was fair thanks to those around him that taught him. Including his chief advisor, Mister Terrell. He was an older man, late into his sixties. Terrell was Rodrick the Second's squire, much like how young Parathion was doing right now.

"I believe we shall do what we always do. Request the circus preforms who attended last year. Ask some of those bards from the House of Bards in Solitude to accompany a performance as well. Jousting, the same thing as last year." Rodrick the Third explained as he stepped into his luxurious room. A large bed enough to have four people with blue sheets, white pillows, and curtains that laced around it. Two wardrobe cabinets were in the corner with all his fine antique clothes. Even drawers meant for just sleeping attire was being folded by a maid. Rodrick the Third stepped over to his mirror, looking at his reflection and fixing his hair.

Rodrick the Third was much like his father. Breton looking, but Nordic. He had long dark brown that was washed and combed nicely. Light blue eyes that shined back with innocence. It was impossible to ignore the fact that the man was attractive as a Jarl. He was young, tall, and handsome. He kept a clean smooth hairless face to show his discipline amongst the other Jarls. He felt as though he should do the same as his father did, it set them above the others.

Two maids had come into the room with his clothing for the day. Leggings, finely cushioned boots, a wool white shirt, and a dark blue cloak that rested on his shoulders. The fur that was over his shoulder was from white snow wolves in the mountains from the Throat of the World. The girls then started to help cloth him. Rodrick would simply just leave himself standing there as they dressed him. Rodrick would lift his foot and the girls would place a sock on and his boot.

"My lord, I understand, but records show that for the past two festivals have found that we're not benefiting from them much anymore. Something must change." Parathion insisted slapping the back of his palm against a sheet of paper lying on a flat piece of handheld wood.

"What could they want that I'm not already giving them?" Rodrick said straightening his arms up in the air so the two maids could place a shirt over him. He then waved his long hair and took a hair tie to make it a ponytail.

"Excitement for starters." Parathion uttered under his breath, unfortunately for him. Rodrick heard him.

"Excitement! These people get to come into my walls and experience shows that they couldn't find elsewhere!" Rodrick shouted as the two maids pulled his leggings up to his waist.

"I understand your Highness, but, well. People are getting bored of hearing tales of heroes such as the Dragonborn and Talos. The plays are getting overrated. Jousting only goes so far. People want something more… well exciting." Parathion explained as Rodrick had his cloak placed onto his shoulders.

"Parat, I understand, but what! There's only so much one-… I can do." Rodrick said as he stepped over to his desk and drank from a glass of wine.

"We had a few ideas." Parathion said softly.

"We?"

"Well, from the people. People don't know who I am sire, so I went to the streets and asked what people would like to see at this year's festival." Rodrick rose from his chair with the glass still in hand.

"This is fantastic! Tell me their ideas." Rodrick said with a smile as he sat back into his chair, drinking his wine. Parathion started looking through the papers.

"Uhm, let's see, let's see. Ah yes! Many people would like the warrior's games to return. Wrestling, sparing tournament, spear toss, archery, you know." Parathion said reading off the list.

"Come now Parat, give me the good ones."

"Some had an idea of putting animals against warriors." Parathion said.

"Hmm, decent. But let's try to think of something really good." Rodrick said as he grabbed a sweet roll and took a bite, enjoying the taste.

"Warriors fighting against convicted criminals to the death." Parathion said straightforward.

"Yes! I like it! That could draw the crowds." Rodrick said with a mouthful of the breaded sweet.

"The real deal breaker, if the criminal defeats his opponent, they are given freedom."

"Brilliant! Yes!" Rodrick said slamming his fist on the table.

"My lord, we have not the number of prisoners needed for such a large event." Parathion explained.

"We'll request to take prisoners off the hands of other cities, specifically those expecting execution. I'll even have carriages sent to get them."

"Other ideas we have, is the Lady of Fortune." Parathion said with a little bit of embarrassment. Rodrick turned to look at his squire.

"What's that?" Rodrick asked with confusion as he washed down his food with wine.

"A beauty contest of women, the final best three will be offered a place at your table at the festival dinner. Where you will decide the winner, who will then shall have the luxuries of spending the last night of the festival in your bed." Parathion said with a smirk.

"Did you come up with that Parat?" Rodrick asked his old friend. Parathion was the only friend Rodrick ever had. Parathion was a middle-class boy who one day was offered a chance to be a servant for Rodrick himself, when they were both little. One day, Rodrick was all by himself in Koftgar Hall's courtyard, playing with a wooden sword against a tree, alone. Parathion came out, picking up another small wooden toy sword shouting for his Highness to defend himself. For over an hour the two boys played sword fighting as knights like in the stories.

It was all fun until Parathion's master of service found him playing around with Rodrick and not working. The master was going to send Parathion back to the streets until Rodrick demanded he be released and live in the Koftgar Hall with him. So, it was, the two boys grew up together. Rodrick made his teacher also have Parathion learn how to read and write. The two got older, rode horses, swam in the hall's pool in the basement.

Now the two were older, young men. One being a Jarl of the biggest city of Skyrim. Now here was Parathion setting him up to see some of the best-looking women of the land.

"Maybe, my lord." Parathion said before chuckling. Rodrick joined him.

"Do that as well. Perhaps you'll find yourself in your quarters with one of your own as well." Rodrick laughed.

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd be so fortunate for such fine women." Parathion said quietly.

"Come on now Parat, you're good looking man." Rodrick said. Parathion was shorter than Rodrick by a head, he had blonde yellow hair that was neatly cut for cover his forehead and ears. Freckles showered his cheeks, and brown eyes. He was smaller than Rodrick's body though. Rodrick was given time to swim and become physically fit. Parathion still however had to work.

"Shall it be best looking men instead for you?" Parathion said with a smirk.

"Funny, funny. But yes. I like the idea. Do it."

"Oh, we should get going to dinner quickly, two elves apparently have cooked an elegant hog for you today to enjoy while speaking with the Empire ambassadors." As Parathion finished the sentence, Rodrick rolled his eyes and groaned.

"I hate politics. Could we just say that I'm busy?" Rodrick asked, trying to shy away from the problem.

"We did that yesterday your highness." Parathion said poking his finger against the papers.

"Does that mean we can't do it again?" The two friends started laughing.

"I'm afraid this is rather very important matters. At least that's what they keep telling me." Parathion said.

"What's it about?" Rodrick asked. Parathion started to look through his notes to find a paper.

"Ahhhhh, yes here we are. They want to open Solitude ports to your use for farther trade."

"How does that need to be discussed? That's more outer business trades for us. Sign my signature for it. And send the ambassadors away." Rodrick said with relief, pouring more wine.

"Problem, the Empire wants to tax it."

"The Empire and their damn taxes, they see us leading Skyrim's income so they want to join in and tax it too! How much?" Rodrick complained, drinking a thick gulp of wine.

"Fifty percent."

"Absolutely not! Who do they think I am!? Some naïve child on a throne with a crown?! Where do they think that's reasonable!" Rodrick shouted out loud.

"Well, they are downstairs waiting for you. Could say so yourself?" Parathion insisted. Rodrick then nodded hard, swallowed down the last of his wine before jumping out of his chair.

"Let us enjoy a conversation with these ambassadors. Parat, change into something nice, you'll be attending, I want you to take notes and your advice." Rodrick command, immediately Parathion reacted and stepped out towards the door.

"At once your highness!" With that he was gone. Rodrick the Third then stepped before a mirror and examined himself over, ensuring he looked proper and looked to the two swords in his room. One, was his own, branded by one of the finest blacksmiths in the land. Rodrick named it "Blade of Three," in honor of his family's blood line, him being the third generation. Above his sword, was his family heirloom. "Unfortunate for Ungrateful." It was a Skyforged blade made from the strongest steel that was coated with pieces of diamond. The sword would never break against any armor or blade. It was two handed, heavy. Rodrick hadn't yet been able to touch or wield. He only carried when he was standing before his city. For now, he grabbed Blade of Three and slid it into its scabbard. Hooking onto his belt, he left his chambers and went to the dining hall.


	4. Miss Marandi

"Now, you youthful inspiring mages, who can tell me three different types of summoning magics?" Mage Marandi asked to the class of a dozen of her students. Four students raised their hands, wearing various types of robes, garments, and uniforms of their homes, representing where they came from. She determined in her head to choose a student that grasped the subject better, and would work around the better and not so good students.

"Claude." Mage Marandi. The young mage, who if Marandi remembered correctly was interested in becoming a cryomancer and was from Whiterun as a Nord, stood tall with a thinking face.

"There's restoration, illusion, and destruction. For starters Miss Marandi." Claude said before returning to his seat.

"Correct, now tell me how did one begin learning how to summon magic?" It was mostly an open question she wanted to see how students would react and answer. One student, Lerida who practiced conjuration magic, raised her hand. Marandi offered her the floor.

"Do you mean like the textbook way of learning to summon magic or our way we learned?" Lerida asked.

"That's for you to explain."

"Well, for myself the way to learn magic is to have a complete open mind. Before I came to the college, I would sit at a riverbank, concentrate on creating a living being. Eventually, I did manage to conjure a living flower from nothing in a different color than ever seen before. Because for conjurations, you must truly build in the image in your head to project. The more details and depth of the projection, the more realistic it will be seen and appear." Lerida explain before sitting back to her seat. Marandi smiled, she was pleased.

"Thank you Lerida, you gave us a personal experience as well as the textbook answer. To start understanding, conjuring magic, you must have a complete isolate and clear mind. Focus on what you are trying to summon. Therefore, we are here, we are here to build your abilities of mages to the point you can conjure your magic always in any scenario." Marandi then looked to the Orc boy who was the biggest of all the students, Kahl Rotaka. The boy was shy, clearly not in his comfort zone yet. His tribal burns and tattoos spanned across his body even though he was covered in a robe. Kahl sought to study in enchanting.

"Kahl, tell us how you started learning magic." Marandi asked the Orc. Strange to see the large muscular Orc shy and scared to be on the spotlight. It was certainly odd to find an Orc trying to learn the alchemy of magic. Marandi felt bad, she knew the Orc would study hard for tests so he would stay enrolled. He could never go home. He was exiled from his tribe for wanting permission to travel across Skyrim to become a mage. If he failed out, he wouldn't have any place to go.

"Well uhm, Miss Marandi, when I was younger, I was trying to start a fire with sticks. It was very hard where I'm from. The area was majority of the time very damp. My father told me that unless I started a fire, I would not be allowed to eat. After a while, I was so frustrated, all I wanted was for the wood to catch on fire. I just shouted 'fire' and pointed at the wood, small flames emerged from my hand to the kindle. Thus, a fire began. I then wanted to learn more of my capabilities of becoming a mage." Kahl Rotaka said straightforward. Marandi smiled, giving him a acknowledgement for him to speak out.

"Perfect example, what Kahl experienced was him using magic with a partially clear mind. There was something confusing his head, like words, doubt, distractions, anything that could set your mind away from conjuring magic. So, the much clearer your mind is, the perfection of magic you'll create." Marandi explained, revealing a simple toy ball.

"To explain this in example, witness." Marandi then threw the ball at Claude, who ducked underneath the incoming ball. It bounced off the wall behind him and rolled across the door. "Claude, what do you think about when the ball came to you? Your instinct?" Marandi asked stepping over to the ball on the ground, grabbing.

"Get out of its way?" Claude replied. The classmates smiled and laughed together. Marandi held up the ball.

"Your primal instinct is to either fight, or flight. That's your inner self-determining whether to face against the threat, or avoid it. So, if I told you that I'm going to throw," Marandi held up the ball, "this ball at you and want you to freeze it, you'll be having your mind to it, correct?" Without another word, Marandi threw the ball at Claude. This time a little faster, but the boy held out his hand, hail of snowy ice emerged and covered the ball. It then fell to the floor and shattered. The students all clapped their hands in amazement. Claude had an eerie smile across his face, realizing his success.

"The College of Winterhold is to help each of you to not only learn the strongest magic known. But, for when you are met with an oppressing threat, you may use a clearest mind to summon magic." Marandi said closing her textbook. The students all applauded. "Class is dismissed for the day, please feel free to stop by the dining hall for Mister Narvaez's stew he made for you all. If any of you have questions, stay after." The students began piling out of the room, carrying their text books. Three students however stayed behind.

Silas, Vurona, and Harlah. Vurona was the top honors student in the college, studying into electric magic and shields, she was a Altmer, skin tan as the inside of cut wood, her eyes were a dark brown with long brown hair. She had mastered perfect tranquility even before coming to the college. The Archmage was interested in her, he sought great things for her. He hoped she'd become a scholar and teach many, or go on to put her knowledge to use. Silas was a Breton, who had little interest in any sort of magic except destruction. Mostly fire. He studied only fire. He had already begun finding ways to project fire across rooms. Marandi was concerned however what his intentions were while becoming a mage. Harlah, was a Dunmer, very shy to magic, strange being a dark elf. She had dark gray skin, red eyes, she was small and frail. Harlah hoped to master illusionism, she could be found creating wonderful projections such as butterflies. But she couldn't always keep an open mind, she would second guess thinking of her imagination.

"Harlah, go ahead." Marandi asked, taking a seat behind her desk.

"So has there ever been a study of a way to achieve a close mind? Like truly focus on magic?" Harlah asked.

"Speak to Professor Auno, he has a scroll of knowledge that may help you. Comes with steps to help a beginner mage to develop that mindset you seek." Marandi offered. Harlah smiled in return.

"Thank you, Professor Marandi," Harlah said before leaving the room with her books. Marandi turned her attention to the two remaining students.

"Silas, go ahead." Marandi instructed, leaning back in her chair.

"So, you say to an opposing threat that we should have a clear mind to defeat it?" Silas asked with a smirk. Marandi didn't understand where he was going with it.

"Yes, that's the point of learning here in the college." Marandi explained.

"So, if two mages were to project to the other's opposing threat, the winner is determined by whom can project the stronger magic and the clearest mind?" Silas asked with a smile again.

"Explain."

"If a mage attacked me with electricity, I fought back with my fire," Silas then snapped his finger to emerge flames in his hand, "who would walk away unscathed? The one with the clearest mind and more powerful magic?" Silas asked, closing his hand to smother the flames. Marandi was caught off guard, not expecting such a horrible way of looking at magic.

"I suppose yes, however, hopefully you would have a mindset to proactively prevent that from happening." Marandi explained. Silas nodded and grabbed his book.

"Thank you, Professor, see you tomorrow morning." Silas said leaving the classroom. All who remained was Marandi and Vurona.

"What may I help you with Vurona?" Marandi asked to the intelligent student.

"Well, Professor, I feel as though, that my talents have surpassed that of these classes. I wish to proceed to a further advanced class if possible." Vurona stated, Marandi wasn't surprised. The girl could not keep her mind off magic, she had mastered magic faster than anyone Marandi had ever seen. She was learning magic in all parts, alteration, conjuring, destruction, restoration, all of it. She was meant to be a mage. Without a doubt.

"I'm pleased to hear this Vurona, however, there is four classes we have yet to go over before this year's final examination-."

"I've already went about studying them on my own time." Vurona interrupted with a smile of her face. Not a cocky smile, but a confident and competent one.

"Well, how's about you pass this week's exam, and I shall place you before Professor Auno who shall determine whether you qualify for the terminal conclusion portion of the college's study." Marandi explained to the Altmer girl, she smiled.

"Splendid! Thank you, Professor Marandi." Vurona said leaving her chair and walking out the door, leaving Marandi to herself. The late-twenties Breton put on her warm fur cloak that beside the rooms fire. Winterhold was exactly what it sounded like, winter cold. The College wasn't designed exactly for comfort. It was an old military fort with only one way to enter the structure. A thin width walkway. Making however many enemy attackers had to get in practically a straight line. Leaving archers completely capable of collateral kills, as well as burning oil to be poured over any soldiers who crowded the gate of the fort. When the fort was deemed, "unsustainable for life", scholars of magic decided it'd be the perfect place for them to teach the wonders of magic. Too bad they hadn't thought to make improvements to the living standards.

Marandi stepped out of her classroom and began walking through a cold breezing hallway to the atrium to find, a few students pacing on about, Marandi walked around the huge circle with a rare Oaklum tree in the middle. She kept moving about until she bumped into Lagerlof, a member of the college's security. Marandi's books fell to the ground and snow. He was in iron armor that was filled and covered with animal furs and coats, lastly with a clock on his shoulders. He held a torch in one hand.

"Professor Marandi, apologies for running into you." Lagerlof said with sympathy. Marandi leaned down to start picking up her books. Lagerlof was a mid-twenties Nord who had volunteered to protect the College of Winterhold asking only to be fed and a bed to sleep. He had long dirty blonde hair, with a beard as well that dangled barely off his chin. His eyes were blue and Marandi loved to gaze into them. She was doing it now, as he leaned down to help pick up the books too.

"No. No, Mister Lagerlof, it's quite alright, really." Marandi said picking up her books as fast as possible and brushing snow off of them. Lagerlof continued to pick up a few books anyway.

"I ran into you Professor, it's the least I could do." He said, picking up the last book. "Restoration, always fancied the thought of having the ability to heal myself or others." Lagerlof said holding out the two books to Marandi. She was embarrassed, moved her hair out of her face to the side.

"It's quite interesting. The ability and feeling of healing to being healed." Marandi admitted looking to the soldier. He was tall. A sword was holstered onto his belt that he kept his left hand upon.

"Never had the chance to read much between moving from city to city during the defense against Hammerfell. I only took interest in it when I was struck by an arrow." Lagerlof explained patting his knee.

"I wasn't away you were ever injured in battle?" Marandi said, learning something new about the idolized guard.

"Oh yes, luckily for me a mage was nearby and healed me. Don't even have a scar thanks to him. So when I heard I could give back to the College that makes you wizards, I figured it to be a great chance."

"I'm glad you did." Marandi said out.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, it's good to have you watching the school throughout the day and night. These students feel safe with you and your fellow guardsmen protecting us." Marandi said covering up her words.

"Ah, yes. Truth be told, I don't see why we're here honestly. You mage folk could easily defend this yourself. Not sure what my blade could do compared to you who could send lightning from your fingertips." Lagerlof explained. Marandi laughed to herself. But she couldn't ignore the fact that she was shivering from how cold the wind blew. She however did not want to stop talking to Lagerlof.

"It's- it's- it's not that easy." Marandi stuttered from how hard she was shivering. Her teeth had started to chatter.

"Are you cold m'lady?" Lagerlof asked, as Marandi turned away to keep him from seeing her cold.

"No, no. Just going to walk to my room for the night."

"That's quite the bit of a walk so late into the evening. Please allow me to escort you there, wouldn't want you to freeze to death." Lagerlof said, removing his cloak and putting it around Marandi. She was against it at first. She forgot what she was trying to say until Lagerlof's cloak were over her shoulders, wrapped around her like a blanket. Warmth that cured her hands from being so numb. Plus the thought of the soldier's cloak around her made her feel a warmth inside her chest.

The two then began walking down a staircase that spiraled around into the walls of the College. Luckily, the wind stopped hitting them, but the cold still pierced through the rock walls and into the air. Lagerlof still held his torch high in his right hand while Marandi kept her arms crossed, pinning her books to her chest, making the cloak wrap around her completely. The pair walked into a corridor.

"So tell me, how did you find and come to Winterhold to become a teacher of wizards." Lagerlof said jokingly.

"Ha, the term is mage, and I was a student here. After I graduated, I just… didn't leave. Hadn't any place in mind to go to. Like where would I go with what I knew?" Marandi explained, it was somewhat the truth. But she preferred to keep life to her privacy.

"Hmm, fair enough. Ever been to Whiterun?" Lagerlof asked with curiosity.

"I haven't. What's it like?" Marandi asked as the two turned left and went up a staircase.

"A lot warmer first off," the two-started laughing together before Lagerlof continued, "farmland, nice people, it was the place where the Dragonborn years ago, captured a dragon in the Jarl's hall." He explained.

"A dragon! I remember reading about them. How did you know about it?" Marandi asked.

"My grandfather was there. He was a Whiterun guard. My father followed after him, I followed my father." Lagerlof explained.

"Always playing soldier eh? Ever thought of maybe cooking?" Marandi sarcastic asked, it brought a smile on his face.

"Funny, but honestly, it's all I ever knew. No point moving learning something new."

"You are at a College that teaches magic." Marandi said back, the two laughed more.

"Hmm, maybe." Lagerlof said stopping in front of Marandi's door, she returned his cloak and opened her door.

"Thank you for the cloak. It was very cold tonight."

"It'd of been wrong to leave a lady in the cold and not do anything. Plus, I enjoy talking to you."

"Hm, the feeling is mutual." Marandi said, it caused a moment of silence between the two.

"I shall see you around then." Lagerlof broke the silence.

"Hopefully you wouldn't walk into me." Marandi smiled.

"True, well uhm. Good night Professor Marandi." Lagerlof said before turning to walk down the hallway. Marandi wished he wasn't leaving.

"If you like to learn magic I could teach you!" She shouted out to him. Lagerlof turned around to the her. "If you'd like I mean, I know your hours of work are probably scheduled out."

"No, no! That'd be great." Lagerlof said with a smile.

"Restoration sound nice?"

"Whatever you'll teach me Professor."

"Stop by my classroom at noon. We'll start right away." She replied.

"Noon then. Good night Professor." Lagerlof said with a nod.

"Good night Mister Lagerlof. See you tomorrow." Marandi said before slowly closing the door. She sighed of relief. It was so nice to talk to him. She was excited. Marandi took a lit candle, and flamed on two separate candle near her bed. She placed her books on a shelf, and removed her robe. She slipped on her nightwear, and began writing in her journal about the day. Especially the part about talking to Lagerlof. His name wasn't new to her diary. She wrote about him before, today was the first chance she talked to him. Marandi took about an hour writing about the day, and concluded it. She blew out her candles and laid into bed. Within a few moments, she was fast asleep.


	5. Bowen Graewolf

Bowen Graewolf brought his hammer crashing down onto the hot molding steel, forming the length of a sword. He struck the burning steel again, keeping the exact form he wanted. Bowen dipped into a bucket of water, sending stem into the air that sent a heat wave to his face. He waited till the blade was cooled, then removed it and stacked it on to a weapon rack.

He sat down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His black hair he got from his mother was long and reached the back of his shoulders. Bowen's beard was growing thick around his mouth and scarce around his jaws. He was tall and a big from all the hard work he did at the steel work. Bowen had on a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a thick apron that prevented anything from hitting his body. Bowen was the blacksmith for the Eldridge military. After all, he was a part of the military of Nords that made it. Bowen gazed into the fire pit as the flames seem to dance around. It reminded him of the war and his first battle.

Bowen Graewolf fought in the Hammerfall uprising. He served in the infantry, protected the border from Orcs in three battles with his brother, Kaiser. The brothers fought side by side, tales were told by their comrades of the two cutting down Orcs and elf loyalists. Kaiser was one of the greatest Nord swordsmen that Bowen met. He would wield two bastard swords and cut down the axe, hammer, and heavy swords. Bowen never understood his brother Kaiser. Two swords, while Bowen would wield a two-handed longsword. They'd stay close together, never going without another.

The Nord defense was made of the Empire, trying to keep the Orcs from claiming Skyrim during its weak years after the Dragonborn was gone. Citizens of Skyrim joined the ranks of the Legion as volunteers, massing an army to defend their homes. Valiant Nords, former Stormcloaks, citizens from all over Skyrim under one banner. The Skyrim Gathered Army. At the beginning of the war, the army was led by the Empire's commanders. But being foreign to Skyrim, they their strategies and tactics were not working. Because of this, the south-western border was overrun, many Legion soldiers were slaughtered. No prisoners were ransomed for. It was then, old leaders of previous Stormcloak and Legion war came forth, leading the forces. The Empire funded all the costs of the war, supplies, arms, and resources while the Nords led the battles.

Bowen and Kaiser volunteered for service under a year, getting them paid annually. They didn't care about the gold, they wanted to protect their homeland, but Kaiser fought for another reason. His wife Elina. Bowen was all too familiar with Elina, the two fell for another the moment she and her family came from Windhelm to Whiterun. They were only still young men, but Kaiser would always try to see her working in the market. Before they left for war, Kaiser proposed, and slept with her during their honeymoon.

Within the first two months of training and waiting on the defense line, they were attacked by an Orc war party. The Orcs thought it'd be wise to attack the Nord volunteers believing them to not have any experience in tactics. They were wrong. Bowen remembered that night, his heart was pumping. Watching the hundreds of Orcs marching on line to their fort along the defense line. They howled, shouted with their war cries. They were in a forested area, while the Nords fort was outside of the woods in a clearing. Before the Orcs advanced, they were greeted by catapults sending bundles of hay on fire and flaming arrows. The woods began to catch ablaze around the Orcs making their formations break, causing them to attack prematurely. Archers were waiting, sending arrows flying into the inorganizing charge of Orcs, by the time they reached the gate they were lost in confusion. Perfect for the Nords to dump oil on the Orcs and with a flaming arrow, caught ablaze dozens Orcs. Then the gate was open to have two towers, full of archers, let loose a barrage into the burning Orcs.

A stack of corpses laid in front of the opened gate, smothering the floor of burning oil. Thus, the Orcs tramped over their dead comrades into the fort, only to be faced with a circle of Nord soldiers. Swords ready. They let the Orcs move into the fort to be surrounded, while the archers picked off the cluster of Orcs still trying to get in. So, when a wave of Orcs managed to get inside, a load of their comrades behind them were struck down with arrows, leaving them by themselves with the Nords. The Orcs would try to charge into the circle of Nords, sporadically in their own groups. The tactic allowed for a pair of Nord warriors to advance in, go against a single Orc, strike him down, and rejoin the circle to keep them tireless. This was where Bowen and Kaiser were. Bowen remembers it perfectly…

"Here they come!" A Field Marshall yelled as a group of Orcs broke through the pile of corpses. Bowen turned to his brother, ready with a sword in hand.

"Ready?" Bowen asked to Kaiser.

"Of course," Kaiser said with a smile. The two found an Orc with an axe charging at them screaming a raging battle cry. The two moved forward, Bowen brought up his longsword into the swung axe, catching it. Kaiser moved in and stabbed the Orc in the ribs. The Orc warrior groaned with pain. Bowen turned his blade down and to the left, moving the axe to the side, before driving the tip to the Orc's chest. Killing him. Bowen backed away to look at the first Orc he ever killed. Kaiser wiped his face.

"First Orc I've ever killed." Bowen uttered to his brother as they backed away from the corpse to the circle.

"They'll be plenty to follow tonight." Kaiser said keeping his sword up. Before long, more Orcs pressed through the pile of bodies and attacked the Nords. Another Orc came with an wicked looking sword at Kaiser. Kaiser raised his sword, to intercept his strike, just in time for Bowen to move in and slice the Orc's side. Without a moment afterwards, Kaiser side stepped and cut the Orc's head off clean.

The two didn't have a second to breath before another Orc moved in, this time Kaiser handled him on his own. This Orc had a similar strange barbed sword and shield. He came towards Kaiser, who waited for him. Bowen almost thought his brother was becoming arrogant because the Orc began to swing and Kaiser was still motionless. But he ducked under the swing of the sword and drove his sword into the Orc's side. Kaiser then shoved the Orc on his back and kneed the shield on the him so he couldn't move. Kaiser then freed a dagger from his belt and drove it into the Orc's throat.

Bowen was too busy watching Kaiser to not see another Orc. Bowen was worried, this Orc was bigger than most, having a Warhammer. The Orc brought his hammer down for Bowen, he reacted by holding his blade sideways, halting the blow. Both the two fighters strength was pressed into one another, finally the Orc killed Bowen backwards. He stumbled to keep standing, then regained his footing to the attacking Orc. The Orc tried to swing his hammer again for Bowen, this time he parried it, backing up. The Orc was overcome by the momentum and his body slightly followed it, perfect for Bowen to strike his longsword to the Orc's exposed arm. Bowen didn't realize what happened because blood squirted into his eyes. He backed away, cleaning the blood from his face to see he sliced the Orc's arm off. It held onto the remaining bit of his arm, screaming. Bowen didn't wait, he brought his sword crashing down into the Orc's shoulder that went all the way down to the center of his chest.

He kicked the stiff dead Orc over and planted his boot on his chest then pulled free his sword. By now, Kaiser had joined his side again. More blood on his sword as well. Both got shoulder to shoulder to breath in air.

"Quite a few of them." Bowen said with sarcasm. Ironically the two brothers laughed.

"Ay, thought they'd be taller." Kaiser said with a smile back.

Before more could be explained, two Orcs came charging in. Kaiser stepped off to the right side, having an Orc move to him. Bowen orientated himself on the other Orc. But as the Orc attacking Kaiser came close, he leapt and rolled to his left, right next to the Orc coming from Bowen. Kaiser brought his sword cutting the back of the Orc's leg, severing it from the body. This got the first Orc turned around, and moving for Kaiser's back. Bowen moved in, swung his sword horizontally into the Orc's chest, sending him to the ground. Bowen didn't hesitate to stomp on the Orc's sword wielding hand, he brought his sword above him and drive it into the barely living Orc's face. Bowen turned to Kaiser dragging his sword across the throat of the legless Orc. Blood covered all of them.

Two more Nordic warriors joined the brothers, a short sword and spear in hands. Five Orcs then charged the group. The Nords gave one another space to fight. The spearman lowered himself and aimed at the Orc not charging for him, making an Orc go for him on his left. The spearman then changed the tip of his spear to the approaching Orc who ran into the tip right at the gut. But another Orc came in and thrust his sword into the spearman's chest. Kaiser, flanked the Orc and drove his sword into it's back. Meanwhile Bowen and the other Nord faced the other three. Bowen won't ever forget how the other Nord charged for an Orc, putting himself to be flanked. But he did it anyway. The Nord, blocked the Orc's sword slash, and brought his blade to its throat. Immediately one of the remaining Orcs came with a pair of daggers. He stabbed the Nord in the side, while the other dagger repeatedly stabbed the Nord in the chest. Bowen moved in to kill the Orc, but another attacked Bowen with a missed axe swing. Bowen immediately held his sword out at eye level and brought it right between the Orc's collarbones.

Kaiser then emerged from nowhere and killed the Orc that was still stabbing the Nord in the chest. Bowen removed his longsword from the dead Orc and turned to Kaiser who was leaning over, trying to check on the Nord. Kaiser nudged him twice, but nothing. The Nord would not move.

"He's dead," was all Kaiser said before holding his sword up again, but also taking the fallen Nord's sword.

Now, Bowen got to see that the gate was even more piled with dead corpses of Orcs, covered in arrows. The battle field before the circle was littered with dead bodies. Mostly Orcs, but here or there would be a Nord or a Legion soldier. Blood, blood everywhere. Screams of wounded Orcs and Nords filled Bowen's ears. That was one thing he wasn't expecting. So many voices dying in the air. People begging for help. Bowen had turned to see an injured Orc lying on the ground, begging for mercy. A Nord came over and kicked away his extended arm then drove a sword into his chest. Bowen wouldn't ever forget that voice. Someone screaming at the top of their longs then suddenly silence. The sound still echoes in his head.

That night would go on all till morning, arrows just kept raining on the Orcs trying to climb over the dead to attack the fort. By the morning, Bowen had lost count how many Orcs he killed. As did Kaiser. Bowen was so tired, his arms ached, he seemed to never collect his breath. The morning revealed a field of bloody dead corpses all around him. Everywhere he looked, a dead body. Blood, body parts, an arm over there, a severed head here, it was just so much to take in. Once the sun started to come over the horizon and make the sky a reddish orange color, the remaining Orcs retreated. Beaten. Leaving behind all their dead or dying.

The Legion wanted to spare the Orcs still breathing. But the Nord commanders knew they couldn't tend to all the wounded and imprison them. Death followed all the Orcs that morning. A long wave of Nords went in a outboard curve, slaying the remaining Orc's. Bowen and Kaiser kept shoulder to shoulder, coming across injured Orcs.

"Wait, mercy, I beg of it!" An Orc with an arrow in his gut and leg pleaded. Bowen gazed his eyes and face. This was another being he realized. Being attacked by all the other Orcs was different. They were at war, fighting. This Orc was injured and helpless. But he knew the order, and brought his longsword into the Orc's chest. Ending his suffering. Kaiser was to his right, finding an Orc who was missing an arm and a gash on his leg.

"Do it," the Orc spat at Kaiser, "I do not fear my immortal haven awaiting me. And I will not go out screaming."

"Very well, but here. You're still very much mortal." Kaiser said driving his sword into the Orc's chest, but it didn't kill him at first. The Orc grunted from the pain, and grabbed Kaiser's sword. Kaiser then twisted the blade, severing something in the Orc's chest, because it killed him instantly.

The brothers kept moving through the field of bodies. Slaying all the survivors. Leaving none to report back to their leaders and other regiments. It was necessary, that's what Bowen kept telling himself. The entire time, even when an Orc begged for mercy. Explaining he had children before his heart was punctured by steel. This wouldn't be the end of it. Bowen would fight alongside his brother for the remainder of the year, and nothing changed. The clash of steel and screams of battle would never end it seemed. Bowen sometimes still had trouble not hearing the voices when he slept. Drinking helped. Bowen participated in two more major battles until he was removed from the infantry.

Bowen's leaders had discovered that he was a skilled blacksmith. He was placed in auxiliary with the archers and the catapults as security along younger and far too old men to be fighting. It was hell, watching the Legion and Nord army fighting in a battle, right before his volunteer year was over. While Kaiser was still in the ranks of infantry, fighting against the enemy head on. It was the last battle of the war. Three more moonlit nights till Kaiser and Bowen would be free to return home. The Legion army was pressed against the main force of the Orcs while the Nords protected their vulnerable flank. The Orcs came in and clashed head on with the Nordic army. Bowen watched for hours in the rear as the two forces clashed together. After a while Bowen couldn't handle it anymore, he charged into battle.

The fight was very even, Bowen wasn't focused on the fighting, mostly looking for his brother Kaiser. Bowen cut down many Orcs, all with endless effort with the hopes to find his brother.

"Father, I chopped wood for tonight and tomorrow," said a voice that broke Bowen's concentration. It was Arryn Graewolf. He looked so much like Bowen. Except his short light brown hair from his mother. Arryn still had a few more inches to grow. He was not done getting taller. From the labor the boy did alone, he was getting stronger. His eyes were green, like Bowen's side of the family. Sooner or later Arryn would start growing a beard.

"Good job son," Bowen replied, taking off his gloves and tossing them aside. Arryn carried the bundle of firewood to the stacked pile and followed Bowen.

"So, does this mean I can get two days' worth of sparing then?" Arryn asked behind him.

"I'm not surprised you were going to ask, get your sword." Bowen replied with a sigh. Arryn then rushed inside the house to get his sword. Bowen looked over to the rack and drew a simple issued sword that he was making for the Eldridge army. This would at least give him an excuse to ensure his steel would hold together.

"Hello old friend!" A man's voice came from behind him, Bowen turned to see his old war comrade Fraudrek. The man was a mage, master in restoration, he went to the College of Winterhold after his time as a soldier. Claimed he'd rather save lives rather than end them. He had the appearance of a mage by his long dark gray robe.

"Fraudrek, is good to see you again." Bowen said shaking hand to his old friend. Fraudrek now had a bald head with a small batch of hair between his chin and bottom lip. It was different to see him like this, the last time Bowen saw him years ago was with a mess of long hair and full beard. Fraudrek had lost much of his weight. Apparently, he'd given up on a lot after the war. Drinking, letting his hair grow out, and ever touching a sword ever again.

"You know I'm right down two streets from you and you never visit." Fraudrek said displeased.

"Ay, for that I am sorry. The stile has been busy this part of the year. Young boys joining the ranks of Eldridge." Bowen explained pointing to his work station.

"Good business I imagine, shame you didn't stay with the war. You'd of gotten places. Perhaps an officer." Fraudrek continued. Bowen waved him off and twirled the sword around his wrist.

"Ah, I had enough of the war. I did my part." Bowen explained scratching his head.

"Not long as far as I remember. Yes the war was over. But you didn't fight long."

"I fought long enough. Not to mention I had other things to attend to once I came home." Bowen explained. At that moment, Arryn returned with his sword attached to his belt wearing chain mail under his shirt. He had black worn out leather boots on his feet and practical pants. Once Fraudrek saw Arryn, he turned back to Bowen.

"I was not aware you had a family." Fraudrek whispered to Bowen.

"I started after I came back from the war." Bowen whispered back.

"What's his name? Where is his mother?" Bowen lowered his head in disappointed before replying in a hushed voice.

"Arryn Graewolf and she died after giving birth to him."

Fraudrek rubbed his chin and sighed. "Terrible, I'm sorry to hear that Bowen."

"Don't feel sorry for me, feel for his mother."

"She'd be proud, does he have your skill at the sword?" Fraudrek asked with curiosity.

"He's been learning, witness it first hand and see what you think."

Bowen approached Arryn with a coat of chain mail of his own that protect his vital organs. They then grabbed helmets that would protect their heads and even gloves. The two kept a fair distance apart, Arryn then drew his sword.

"Alright Arryn, run through some of the last lessons I taught you, counters." Bowen then came in and slashed his sword in a horizontal motion with intense speed, that was clashed with Arryn's. Arryn however shifted his blade and dug it to Bowen's chain in the center of his chest.

"Good. Good. Let's move on to sparring." Bowen said. Arryn nodded and prepared himself.

Bowen came in and swung his sword, Arryn blocked it, but Bowen kept pushing himself forward. The two began colliding one another swords together back and forth. Both were doing it quickly that if someone watched they thought they were wildly crashing their swords into one another. But as Fraudrek watched, he noticed both father and son was using flawless technique. Bowen was a known to go completely offensive, but his son Arryn seemed to just counter every strike. The boy would occasionally come close to landing a blow on his father. But no luck, Bowen however would occasionally land a hit here or there. But that was as expected. Bowen was the greatest swordsman Fraudrek knew.

Then strangely, the boy Arryn began going on the offensive, something that Bowen wasn't ready for. Arryn then landed an attack again, and again. He was starting to move so fast and countering Bowen's moves that he was getting struck each time. The two stopped once Arryn held his sword to Bowen's throat. A killing blow.

"I'd be walking away alive father." Arryn smiled after removing his helmet.

"Don't get arrogant. Never underestimate your opponent. It'll get you killed. But yes. You did well." Bowen said with a smile as he slapped his hand on Arryn's shoulder.

"Remarkable work with a sword Arryn I must say." Fraudrek said. Bowen then gestured to Fraudrek.

"Arryn, this is my old war friend Fraudrek."

"You fought with my father in battle?" Arryn asked. Fraudrek chuckled.

"We did, back when I still believed in steel. You've definitely got your father's blood in you. I've never seen anyone best your father." Fraudrek said with a smile.

"Thank you." Arryn said.

"Ever consider joining the ranks of Eldridge?" Fraudrek asked, but he realized that was bad to say once Bowen's face dropped to frustration.

"Arryn go inside, I'll teach you later." Bowen commanded, the boy obeyed his father and went into the home.

"So that's how it is, you come to my home, try to get my family involved with the military."

"Oh Bowen, calm down friend. Look I'm not here to recruit your family even though Eldridge would gain a great asset if either of you joined it seems."

"Arryn will not join the infantry. I forbid it, I do not want him to see such horrors like I saw. The lives I ended with a swing of a sword. Eldridge should be thankful I still make blades for their soldiers. I want nothing to do with war ever again." Bowen explained grabbing a cup of water and chugging it down.

"Right, well my friend. There is a war on the horizon no doubt. Eldridge will need valiant men to protect her people. Hopefully you could save lives by aiding in their cause." Fraudrek explained before turning to leave.

"What are you talking about Fraudrek?" Bowen asked.

"Commander Traghar, asked me to speak to you if you'd be willing to train some of the new recruits. Young lads, some barely have hair on their nuts. Who better to teach them than you Bowen?"

"I'm sure there's someone who'd be willing to, besides what would it matter if I did it?"

"Because Traghar led you back during the war, and knows your lessons will keep these kids alive longer than anyone else. Commander Traghar cares about his troops. He wants them to be among some of the best Nord warriors Skyrim has ever seen." Bowen scratched his chin.

"Let me think about it, come after sunfall, we'll have dinner and discuss it." Bowen said with a sigh.

"See you later old friend." Fraudrek said, leaving the veteran to gather his thoughts.


End file.
